


Proximate

by walrucifer



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Samifer - Freeform, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walrucifer/pseuds/walrucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer needs to be close to Sam, no matter the implications or risk. Sam won't accept, at first, but he gives in eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proximate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mind_and_malady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/gifts), [vxtya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vxtya/gifts).



> I haven't written any cuddly Samifer in ages, and I apologise most sincerely. You're all lovely people who deserve more cuddly Samifer.

Everything’s grey when Sam wakens. Grey, grey and more grey. It’s a world of grey, so opaque and indistinguishable that he wonders how light can get through his window. He doesn’t recall having opened the curtains or blinds. Nor has he switched on the light, so that leaves only fire as an explanation, or….?  
Something stirs in the corner. Sam glances over to find Lucifer, back rested against the wall, knees curled to his chest, head tilted back to gaze at the ceiling. His wings are visible, material, and they’re a mess. Blood and singed feathers cover every available spot of skin on them. The scent of burnt flesh hangs around Lucifer. When he notices Sam’s awake, he gazes up, clips his wings out, shaking them ever so gently to dislodge the dust and ashes between feathers, and he tries to show nothing, but Sam can tell he’s in pain. His hands are balled into fists, and Sam sees him visibly relax his thighs when he finally stills his wings.  
Lucifer cocks his head to the side, staring at him disconcertingly with those blue, blue eyes. His gaze betrays nothing. He is emotionless on the outside. Sam knows that, in truth, his feelings must be warring in his mind. Something like pity registers.  
“Did you fly here?” he finally asks. Lucifer shudders.  
“Yes,” he replies softly, his voice like the lick of a cat’s tongue, and then he says no more, and Sam finds himself oddly content with the answer.   
“”You didn’t have to. I can fend for myself, Lucifer,” he half thanks, half chastises the angel. A small, wry smile curves Lucifer’s mouth. He sits up, back ramrod straight, and fixes his eyes on Sam.  
“I’m well aware,” he demurs gently. “I wanted to come. I felt no compulsion, Sam. I did this of my own free will.”  
Sam can’t help sneering. “Haven’t you lost your free will?” he asks coldly. “When you, you know, Fell?”  
“I lost my ability to utilise my will,” Lucifer corrects and rests his right hand on his thigh. “I stand for Free Will.”  
His eyes are diamond-hard, emotionless, and Sam sees nothing but truth in them. He has never met a more honest being than Lucifer. He’s not sure if he likes the fact, but he appreciates it. Lucifer’s candor has saved him many a wondering thought.  
For a few moments, Sam studies Lucifer, letting his eyes roam over pale skin and dark wings, taking in tears in muscle and scratches on bone and meeting pale blue when Lucifer returns his gaze. He hastes himself for finding the blonde’s eyes beautiful. No matter what Lucifer has done for him, he’s still Lucifer. Sam can’t bring himself to hate him, but he still distrusts him.  
“You don’t trust me,” Lucifer points out, as though he’s read Sam’s thoughts. “I understand.”  
He tilts his head. “Do I frighten you?”  
Sam smiles. “No, you don’t,” he admits. Lucifer nods. He seems to have expected the answer, but something about it causes him visible discomfort.  
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he sighs and braces his back against the wall to stand. When he’s upright and firm on his feet, he walks to Sam’s bedside and sits down on the edge, taking minimal space, leaving as much as he can for Sam. Sam scoots aside nevertheless, curious to see if Lucifer will accept the offer.  
In response, Lucifer lets his weight fall to the side, legs curled in, left arm hanging across his chest, his right fist fit into the dent of his cheek. His eyes hang over Sam, curious and oddly affectionate, and protective. It’s the kind of protection Sam imagines a lion would give its mate or cubs, or a dragon its hoard. Lucifer doesn’t need him to live, but he enjoys Sam’s presence and wants him around.  
“Would you be afraid of me if you didn’t know me this well?” Lucifer asks gently and reaches his hand out to brush a strand of hair out of Sam’s forehead.  
The gesture is more tender than any Sam’s ever experienced from the angel; Lucifer’s fingers are frozen silk against his skin, his touch light as the brush of a butterfly’s wings. His brow is furrowed in concentration, and when he draws his hand back, it’s with a great deal of annoyance, even pain, that he does so.  
Sam remains silent. He doesn’t know how to answer Lucifer’s question. There is nothing easy, nothing innocent about it.The implications worry Sam; he wonders whether Lucifer means his question in a sexual way.  
Lucifer slowly shifts his weight until his chest and stomach are curved against Sam’s side, so close they’re breathing the same air, and Sam doesn’t flinch when he feels ice-cold lips on his cheek. He doesn’t flinch when he feels Lucifer’s breath ghosting over his skin, nor when the blonde moves in for a true kiss. Lucifer is exceedingly gentle, his lips barely touching Sam’s, and Sam can taste ice and ash and blood in the kiss, a flavour marked by the torture of aeons, by endless nights spent alone, by weeks in solitude.  
When he feels hands gently cradling his shoulders, Sam complies, lets Lucifer flip him and edge closer to press his body as close as physically possible to Sam’s. He can’t help marveling at how small the angel feels, how delicate.  
“Sam,” Lucifer murmurs, voice softer than before, nestles his head into the hollow of Sam’s chest.  
“Lucifer, is something wrong? Is there something you need to tell me?” Sam sighs tiredly, refusing to pull the blonde closer just yet. He wants to make Lucifer impatient. Let him wait. He can do it; he’s patient.  
A small, almost imperceptible shake of Lucifer’s head is his only answer.  
“So why’re you here?” Sam continues, not quite ready to give up. He wants Lucifer to explain himself.  
Lucifer remains silent for several moments, and when he does reply, it’s in a small, strained voice, one that betrays how reluctant he is to admit the truth.  
“I came for you, Sam.”  
Sam feels his chest tighten; the depth of Lucifer’s actions strikes him like a physical blow. He doubts that he would have crossed God knows how much space to reach Jess if it caused him such discomfort.  
Carefully, he wraps his arms around Lucifer, surprised at himself, and when the blonde nuzzles closer and burrows his face into Sam’s neck, Sam finds it oddly enjoyable. Lucifer is cold, his skin surprisingly soft and smooth, as though his presence were enhancing Nick’s natural features. His hair and stubble bristle slightly against Sam’s skin, but it doesn’t scratch, doesn’t hurt Sam.  
“You surprise me,” Sam whispers. Lucifer smiles sheepishly, gazes up at Sam.  
“You literally flew all that way – you caused yourself all that pain, you hurt your wings again, you basically did to yourself physically what happened when you Fell – just to cuddle with me. You’re insane, Lucifer.”  
Lucifer’s smile becomes more sincere, less guilty. “I wanted to be with you. Is that wrong? I thought it was common among humans to be close to ones they love.”  
Sam feels his breath catch. Not bothering to think of how Lucifer will react, he slides down, cradles the blonde’s face in his palms, and kisses him as hard as he can. Lucifer returns the kiss with a small, startled moan, a contented sigh.  
“I want _you_ , Sam,” Lucifer whispers, breathing hard. Sam kisses him again, less vicious than before. Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, but Sam silences him, crushing his mouth onto the angel’s, fisting his fingers into short blond hair. He watches age-old blue eyes slide close in enjoyment, hears Lucifer’s thrumming purr as he gently pulls him into his arms.  
“Lucifer… you better mean that in a sexual way, because you’re making me want to fuck you mindless,” he growls. Lucifer’s answering whimper is _lovely_. The way he tilts his head back and bares his throat makes Sam kiss his way down, bite gently into his collarbone. Lucifer squirms up, kisses Sam on the mouth, hard.  
When they break to breathe, Sam doesn’t kiss again, doesn’t do anything obscene or unwanted; he lays down beside Lucifer again, mirroring the angel’s earlier pose, head rested on his fist, gazing at the blonde. Pale blue eyes are nearly closed; Lucifer’s chest rising and falling slowly as Sam gently brushes his lips against his forehead.  
Again, Sam marvels at how small Lucifer looks. He’s sure the angel is gargantuan compared to Castiel, and that’s more than he can easily comprehend. Both he and Nick must be under enormous strain. He wonders how it would feel to say _Yes_ , to give Lucifer what he wants, and he wonders if, once the possession was complete, he would care enough, and whether he would see himself as a bad person.  
“Lucifer,” he whispers. The angel’s eyes slide open, narrowed in annoyance and surprised exhaustion. Grinning, Sam leans in, kisses his cheek. Lucifer _murr_ s in enjoyment, scoots his body closer.  
“What if I said _Yes_ to you?” Sam asks, and Lucifer’s lips curve into a tired smile. His face is pure bliss. Sam kisses him again, softly, barely a brush between lips, and pulls the blonde close.  
“I’d be very gratified if you did, Sam,” Lucifer murmurs, voice slurred, and smiles again. “You’re rightfully mine, but I want you to take me in of your own free will.”  
“We keep coming back to free will,” Sam sighs. “But I think that… if Nick ever stops serving you, if you ever need someone new… I think you can have me, then.”  
Lucifer nestles close, purring loudly, back vibrating against Sam’s arms, his heart pulsing sluggishly against Sam’s solar plexus. Sam snorts, amused; he knows most people would never consider Lucifer as someone cuddly and happy at being agreed with, but he can’t imagine him any other way.  
This is Lucifer, his Lucifer, and this is just the way Sam likes him best.  
“Lucifer,” Sam mutters again. A small, annoyed grunt is his only reply. “Are you staying here?”  
 _Mmmmrrrrp_ , Lucifer goes softly, opens his eyes, and stares up at Sam, a definite _yes_. Sam smiles.  
“Good,” he whispers. “Because I love you, too.”


End file.
